Those Between, Part 2
by Eric W. Hanke
Summary: Captain America goes to the Middle East to search for WMD.


Captain America  
"Those Between, Part Two"  
By  
Eric W. Hanke  
  
Steve Rogers sat on the balcony of his Fort Lee, New Jersey Apartment and stared out over the water at the well-lit island of Manhattan. A few hours ago, Rogers had been amongst those lights, trying to enjoy an evening on the town. He had been alone, but that was not the reason he had come home early. He was simply tired and wanted to get some rest. For the past few weeks, he had been hard at work stopping a foreign power from distributing arms to a well known terrorist group. He had prevented the sale from going through, but had not been able to catch any of the extremists. Nor had he been able to prove the foreign power's involvement. The weapons had no markings of any kind, and were, in fact, such as produced by the United States Military. Having read a stolen weapons report, he had known that going in. The vehicles that were being driven by the suspected power were also unidentifiable. These facts had been no surprise to Rogers. It was standard procedure not to be identified by the opposing force.  
Rogers went back into his apartment to refresh his drink, and stopped to look at the canvas which was positioned by balcony doors. He liked to have plenty of natural light to paint by. Sometimes, he used the balcony as an art studio, unless it was windy. On the canvas, was a work in progress. The twin towers were half done and did not yet reach into the soon to be blue sky. Every stroke had been like being cut by a razor blade, so he had not worked on it in almost a week. Outside the window was the space where the buildings had been. He had visited the towers only weeks before they had been destroyed. He had not personally known anyone who had been killed but they were all his brothers and sisters and he would always mourn their lose. He looked forward to seeing all those responsible punished for their crimes against humanity.  
With his glass refilled, Rogers returned to the balcony. It was getting chilly, so a plain gray sweatshirt covered his "America the Beautiful T-shirt." His uniform was not the only red, white, and blue he wore. Sometimes he wondered if he ever took off the Captain America costume, and just spent some of his life being Steve Rogers. As he stared at the stars he began to have his doubts if Steve Rogers even existed. After all, he was living beyond a normal human life span. He was a kid during the depression. Anyone who looked at him on the street today would have no idea he had lived so long thanks to the Super-Soldier formula.  
Rogers studied the crescent moon for a few seconds and determined that it was getting late. He decided that he should go to bed because he had to get up early in the morning. He had a meeting at the Pentagon. A transport would be waiting for him, or rather Captain America, at the airport at 9 A.M. He did not look forward to it. A meeting at the Pentagon meant that something bad had either happened or was about to. Whatever it was, his country needed him and he would not let it down. He finished his glass of juice and went to bed. Alcohol would have tasted good, but he rarely drank, feeling that it would slow him down.  
  
From his seat in the helicopter, Rogers could see the entire Pentagon building. Its shape had always puzzled him, but he had never had a mind to ask.why? Maybe someday he would, but right now he had work to do. At least, he presumed that was why he had been called there. It certainly would not be a social visit. He took a deep breath and began preparing himself for the worst as the chopper connected with the rooftop-landing pad. Two men in uniform were waiting for him.  
As Rogers exited the chopper, he eyed the two soldiers. They approached him both looking pleasant. The one that took lead Rogers knew. He was General Horace Mack. Rogers had known him for many years, and they had worked together often. Mack was in his early sixties with mostly white hair, and eyes that could only be described as steely. He was a fierce fighter in his youth and Rogers was sure that Mack could still handle himself quite well in any combat situation. He had great deal of respect for the old soldier.  
The second was short but slender. He looked to be in his late thirties, and his decorations indicated the rank of colonel.  
"Welcome back, Steve."  
"Thanks, general. It's good to see you."  
"This is Colonel Quincy Anton. He just transferred from Fort Bragg." Looking slightly awed Anton extended his hand. Rogers, disregarding Anton's reaction to him, accepted it. He was used to it, and Anton would soon stop treating him like a celebrity once he got to know him better. It was times like this that he was glad not to be a public figure. It had taken him a long time to accept the way anyone in the public eye was treated in America. He disliked the thought of being treated like a god one minute and like yesterday's coffee the next. When the Skrulls had merchandised him it was like hell on Earth. He had almost been relieved to discover it had all been a fraud and that he was not going to be the next Brittany Spears.  
Rogers followed the two officers into the building and he instantly felt a sense of familiarity. He had forgotten how sterile the place was. He did not dislike it there, but something about the place made him uneasy. He was a soldier and honored to serve his country, yet this was the place where it was decided which young men and women would die. That part he did not like.  
"We have a developing situation, Steve," said Mack as they made their way to one of the many briefing rooms. The doors closed behind them. The room was like any other in a military facility. At the center was a table with seating for several and mounted on the wall was a large monitor.  
"As you know, Steve, this country has taken it upon itself to stop terrorism around the world. And, although it can be unpopular, this means we sometimes have to invade sovereign nations that harbor terrorists and provide them with weapons of mass destruction to use against the civilized nations of the world." Mack produced a tiny remote control from his pocket and pointed it at the screen. A moment later a map of the country of Syraq appeared on the screen. Rogers recognized the northern nation as being on the U.S. Government's list of possibly hostile countries. According to the news reports he had seen on television and in newspapers, it looked like the U.S. would have to invade Syraq in order to stop them from their hostile activities. A military dictatorship controlled Syraq, and at the head of the regime was a man named Makmed Sheik Sahad. Sahad had been in power for almost thirty years. During the period, Sahad had outlawed all religions except for Islam; taxed the people, heavily; and threatened many of Syraq's neighbors, some of which were allies of the United States. Now it appeared that he intended to threaten America directly. It was suspected that Sahad had strong links to Osama bin Laden, and that the two had conspired to attack America, but hard evidence had not yet been uncovered. But, it was clear that Sahad wanted to destroy the American way of life, and spread his evil Islam nation across the face of the Earth.  
"As of 48 hours ago," Mack continued, " we have invaded the southern border of Syraq. Tomorrow morning the president is going to announce that we are sending troops. And, before those un-American commie lovers, who shouldn't have the right to question the president can protest, we'll be at war to free the people of Syraq from oppression." Rogers held his breath waiting for Mack to finally say what Rogers knew was coming.  
"We need you go in and look for weapons, and to determine which terrorist groups are operating there."  
"When do I leave, general?"  
"Tonight." Rogers raised the case he was carrying.  
"Okay, I'm ready. I wish we didn't have to do this, but we can't allow terrorists and dictators to threaten us."  
"I know. A lot of people are going to be angry with you, Steve. But don't pay any attention to them. They don't know what they're talking about."  
"When I bring back to proof of how dangerous Sahad is, they won't question our actions anymore."  
"The president will keep them in line. The news channels are already covering this situation, and they'll make the public understand what we're trying to do. This scum in the Middle East has to learn not to mess with us."  
"I'd like to get started right away, sir."  
"There's a transport waiting to take you to Iraq. From there you'll begin your mission. Colonel Anton, would you escort him back to the roof?"  
"Yes, general."  
"Good luck, Steve. And, remember, America is counting on you."  
"I'll see you when I get back, Horace. We'll have a drink."  
"I look forward to it." Mack exited, leaving Anton to his meager task.  
As he walked with Rogers back to the roof Anton could not hide his fascination with the long-time "superhero."  
"I've been an admirer of yours for years." Rogers wanted to groan, but he did not want to offend Anton.  
"I couldn't do it without the support of the government. It's a team effort."  
"Yeah, you're Captain America, the super soldier. You know I volunteered for the super soldier project when I joined the service. As you can see, they didn't accept me."  
"What happened?"  
"They said I wasn't the right blood type." That's what they said about me, Rogers thought. He did not inform Anton that it was more than a matter of what type of blood flowed through your veins. It took a special kind of desire, which Rogers had never been able to put into words. Still, Anton had achieved the rank of Colonel, so he was certainly a capable man.  
On the roof, Rogers boarded the same helicopter that had brought him. From the pentagon, he would be transported to the Middle East to battle tyranny once again.  
  
Sabah bin Naseem dropped his cup of water at the site of the military jet as it passed low over his modest house. The sun was going down, but the model of plane was unmistakable to Naseem. He had seen American jet fighters in the skies over his homeland of Syraq for many weeks and the number was increasing everyday. And, if not convinced by these signs that war was coming, he had the announcements by the government that the infidels were invading the country to destroy it. Like most Syraqis, Naseem knew little of America. He knew that it was a Christian controlled state. He did not believe in Christianity. However, he respected the rights of others to believe what they wished. He hated the thought of war, and feared the stories that he had been told about how the invaders would try to force their religion on all his people. He would do as his leaders urged, and that was pray to Allah for strength and for deliverance from evil.  
In the distance, Naseem could see the lights of the capital city, Tuhkut. For much of his life he had lived in a completely rural area. Now in his mid-forties, he wanted to be closer to civilization, in order to benefit more easily to its advantages. His parents had done well in the trades and had left him enough to enjoy his life. He also dealt in trading with some of the local markets designed to attract tourists. It was not difficult work, and he was free to explore his hobbies. The government restricted many activities, but he felt pretty good about his life. He did what he could to help those in need. The people were poor, and did not benefit much from the wealth of the land, oil. Only the very wealthy reaped the rewards of one of nature's processes.  
Naseem shaded the reddening sunset, in order to distinguish objects that were proceeding for the city. It was not difficult to discern that they were weapons, equipment, and troops being sent to a location unknown to Naseem, as well as most of the other people of Syraq. War was coming; there was no doubt about it. Sooner or later, Naseem would be informed that another holy war had begun. This war would pit Allah against the Christian God, and Naseem did not understand it. He was a follower of Allah, but to him God was God. He wondered how many of those young men going to fight the invaders understood this, too. He knew some did not. He did not yet how the figure approaching him from behind felt about God. And, as he was forcibly moved from light to dark he did not have time to ask.  
  
Rogers saw nothing but sand from the window of the Apache helicopter. He had expected nothing less, having traveled to the region a few times in his long life. He wondered if the Middle East would ever live in peace. Many of its citizens tried too, but violence was always around the corner. He was not a religious man, so he did not feel qualified to understand their problems. It seemed to him that Islam had always and would always be at war with Judea. He wondered if he should offer his services to help them achieve peaceful coexistence. He doubted they would listen to him. After all he was not a diplomat. He was a soldier and he prided himself at being outstanding at it. He would leave diplomacy to those more skilled. The President of the United States came to mind, and Rogers began to review what the commander-in-chief had said in his speech.  
"My fellow Americans," the president had begun. "As of dawn this morning, we have begun a military campaign against the dictatorship of Syraq. And, we will not stop until we have freed the people of that impoverished country and driven out those who have supported the terror that has threatened not only American citizens, but also those of many other peace loving countries. Now is a time when we must be strong, and pray for our troops to win the day swiftly and with minimal lose of life. We must show those who would cause chaos in our world that their hostility will not be tolerated, and that peace will reign supreme again in this magnificent world of ours."  
Rogers had taken the president's words to heart, and would not rest until the evil leadership of Syraq was brought to justice. The image of the twin towers burning was forever scorched into his brain. It made him sick to think about how such evil could be allowed to run loose. He had spent several months conducting his search for Osama bin Laden with no positive results. He hoped he would find the psychopathic bastard in Syraq as the president strongly suspected bin Laden was hiding there. Intelligence had uncovered documents in Iraq that led them to believe the Al-Quada leader might be in Syraq and living under the protection of Sahad. Rogers wondered if he would be able to control his anger if he found bin Laden. It was not his place to punish the fanatic, so he vowed not to harm bin Laden any more than necessary, if he did find him. The light thud of the helicopter landing brought Rogers back to the present moment.  
Rogers surveyed his surroundings from inside the chopper. The landscape was exactly what he had expected. The United States had established bases in Iraq after the war with Saddam Hussein. The Kurds had objected to a base being built on their land, but the government had overruled their oppostion and the base had been constructed. Now it was going to serve one of its purposes. The main force that would be going into Syraq would come from this base, and that included Captain America. He was going in alone, and would work alone once he was inside Syraq. His presence in the region was being kept top secret. He intended to work fast and bring about justice.  
  
Makmed Sheik Sahad peered through curtains at the growing crowd in the square. All the people that could be squeezed into the sizable space would, and the rest would watch on television or listen to Sahad's address on the radio. Like most of his other addresses, this one would be mandatory, and anyone discovered to have disobeyed would be punished. He would not tolerate civil disobedience at a time of war. The country would rally together or face the consequences. It was said that Sahad ruled with an iron fist, but many also said that he was fair to those he saw as brave or noble.  
Sahad had gained control of Syraq in early 1983 through the overthrow of the former dictator of the country, who had been considered a butcher by other countries, including the United States. With their support, Sahad had come to power, and had consistently silenced those who opposed his reign. Now one of his greatest allies over the years had turned against him and a coalition of nations was on their way to remove him from power.  
"We're ready, sir." Sahad turned to his chief minister of information, Naz Kalid, and took a deep breath. He preferred to give speeches from the privacy of his office, but Kalid insisted that this was too important. The people needed to see him and know they were not alone when the American military invaded. Sahad stepped through the curtain, followed by Kalid. The remainder of his cabinet was already on stage. As "instructed," the crowd cheered their leader as he approached the podium. Before beginning his speech, Sahad finished waving and smiling to those gathered.  
"Good morning, my fellow Syraqis. For many years, I have worked to make our homeland a peaceful and prosperous place to live for all of us. And, during that time, I have dealt with all those who have tried to destroy that prosperity. Now, I face the toughest challenge to our nation. The infidels of the United States are, at this very moment crossing our borders for the purposes of wiping out all that we've built. They would have the world believe that this country harbors terrorists and possesses weapons capable of killing millions. But in fact, they are the ones have embraced these evil things. And they will not hesitate to use them when they see that we will fight them and drive them from our lands. We will show them that we will not be intimidated. And we will not let them impose their will on us. I must ask you to be strong now, and to prey to Allah for strength and guidance. There will be more announcements later. Thank you, and Allah be praised." Without waiting to hear the expected cheers of the masses, Sahad disappeared through the curtain.  
  
Like most days in the desert it was extremely hot. Captain America ignored the uncomfortable temperature and continued to jog across the sand to the capital city of Tuhkut. In his hand was his trusted shield. Or rather, the shield he must rely on for protection against enemy attack. He still missed his old shield. It had been a trusted friend for many years. The new shield had been a gift from Sharon Carter. He regretted not really thanking her for her help, and he had to admit the new shield had some advantages over the old one. He only used its ability to change shapes when absolutely necessary, but the force beam was very useful. He no longer had to put himself in as much danger by using the shield as a projectile only. Now he could fire back. He just wished he had Sharon, too.  
A few weeks ago the two had had a fight, and he had avoided talking to her. He had assumed she was okay, but had made a point of making sure before accepting this mission. They only talked for a few minutes, but it was good conversation and he was sure they would able to move forward with their relationship when he got home.  
Captain America dismissed thoughts of home as he achieved the peak of a sand dune and spotted a small house overlooking the city. He slowed his pace and continued toward the family oriented structure. There was no sign of life and he wondered if the place had been abandoned because of the war. Many places he had seen along the way had been deserted. He did not know where they went, and he hoped they were safe. After all the United States had not declared war on the citizens of Syraq, only on the dictatorship that currently ruled the country. He hoped he would not have to fight civilians. They never seemed to understand that the United States military was in their country to free them tyranny. He did not understand their reaction to an army coming in and helping push them forward to a democratic state.  
Captain America reached the last mound of sand and was now only a few yards from the ramshackle house. He crept up to the broken window and peered inside. It was a one-room place with a few meager pieces of furniture. He had seen a small patch of green field with food growing in it. Whoever lived in the house was very poor and depended on the land to survive. He was aware that much of world lived this way. He just did not know how they managed to do it. He tried to help them live in peace, but there were those who only wanted chaos for their own gains. That was whom he wanted to stop. That was how he saw himself helping those in need. Even though the occupants of this house had apparently fled, he would still be helping them by helping his army defeat Sahad's army.  
As he was about to open the door, Captain America heard a noise coming from inside. He stepped back and readied himself for opposition. The door opened and a figure emerged from the dark interior. Captain America heard himself, but he did not abandon his combat stance as he spoke to the person.  
"Diamondback!"  
"Welcome to Syraq. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get here."  
"What's going on, Rachel? What are you doing here?"  
"Come inside and we'll talk. There's too many eyes on us, I think." She did not wait for him to accept her invitation but stepped back inside, leaving the door open. Cautiously, Captain America followed her inside.  
"Have a seat. You're probably tired from all that jogging through the sand." He remained standing while she sat in one of the two wobbly chairs.  
"Suit yourself. Will you have some water, at least?" She poured some water from a small canteen unto an even smaller cup and pushed it across the table. Cap did not reach for the offering.  
"I watched you approaching, and I could have killed you already if I'd wanted to. But I can't make you drink the water, so leave it. I'll drink it later if you don't want it."  
"What's going on, Rachel?"  
"My name is Diamondback. You should know that by now."  
"Someone lives here. There are crops growing outside. Did you kill them?"  
"No. I sent them to visit friends in the city. But I did warn them not to tell anyone about me."  
"Speaking of friends, where are your friends, the Serpent Society?"  
"They don't like the desert. I'm here alone!"  
"And, you still have not told me why?"  
"To help you see the error of your ways."  
"I'm not the criminal, Rachel."  
"Are you sure about that? You've helped me in the past. Now I'm here to help you. And, for old times sake, I want you to hear me out." She had lied to him many times, and left him the fool. Yet, there was something in her tone that he had never heard before. Whatever she was up to he intended to find out. So, he would go along with her for the time being.  
"Fine. Go ahead. I'm listening."  
"I'm sure you are. But you have to open your eyes to hear what I'm trying to tell you. Come on. We're going back out into the sand, so I suggest you drink some water." He continued to ignore the cup. She picked it up and swallowed the contents. Smirking, she replaced the glass on the crumbling table and exited the building.  
"We won't be walking anyway. I have transportation."  
"So do I. Why don't I drive?"  
"Because you make too much noise when you travel. I heard you coming before I saw you. We have to do this quietly." There was no doubt about her skills. It had been a long time since he underestimated her, so he did not argue. Instead he stood back as she produced a small, metallic box from a hidden pocket. Instinctively, he raised his shield. She noticed, but made no comment. She pressed one of the tiny buttons and the sand in front of them began to move. Cap watched as a small land craft, barely large enough two people emerged from the sandy ground. The vehicle had tires but they were not designed for desert travel. With the depression of a second button, the hatch opened to admit passengers.  
"Hop in. I built it myself." He was impressed. He wished she would use her skills to help people, instead of causing chaos around the world. She had made a good ally in the past. He hoped that was her intention this time. He planned to arrest her when this was over. But maybe he would be able to report something positive about her at the trial.  
"We'll be able to move across the sand quietly. With any luck your enemies, and your friends, won't spot us."  
"If the army spots us, you'll be under arrest, Rachel."  
"I know. They're the ones I'm worried about, because they have the most to lose by what I'm going to show you."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You'll see." Cap climbed into the co-pilots seat next to Diamondback. He had forgotten how attractive she was, how intoxicating she could be. Being so close to her now, was much more of a reminder than he ever wanted. Trying to clear his head, he watched as she activated the controls. He felt the craft start to move, and then watched the desert start to rush by. The vehicle stayed close to the ground, apparently, to avoid radar and any other detection devices. Cap had to admit that the Serpent Society was well equipped. He would not let that stop him from bringing them all to justice.  
  
Night was falling when Diamondback's craft reached its destination. Silently, it landed in the sand next to a large dune. She exited without saying a word and started climbing the dune. Cap followed her lead. When they reached the top, she reached into the pack she had gotten from the vehicle, and removed a pair of binoculars. She scanned the terrain below for a few moments, then turned her attention to Cap.  
"You came here to prove that Sahad has weapons of mass destruction. Well, down there is your proof."  
"You're providing me with evidence against Sahad?"  
"I'm showing you Syraq's weapons. So have a look for yourself." She passed him the binoculars. Putting them up to his eyes he discovered that they were equipped for night vision. At her direction he aimed the binoculars, and found what he was looking for. A short distance below was a large building. Cap watched as trucks rolled into the gates of the surrounding fence.  
"That facility is for the production of pesticides. It's also one of the places on the list of possible banned weapons factories."  
"Yes, and the Syraqi's are moving the weapons before the military can arrive."  
"Wrong," she stated. "Take a closer look. Those trucks are unloading, not loading. I've had them under surveillance for the past few weeks. The U.S. military gained control of this area a few weeks before the war officially started."  
" But, we only invaded a few days ago."  
"No, your military has been operating here for months. Take a look." Peering through the lenses again, he saw something that tightened his throat. He watched as military trucks and jeeps moved below, United States military vehicles. He focused on the passengers. It was not clear if they were Americans, but they were not of Arab nationality. He dropped the binoculars onto the sand and looked at Diamondback.  
"I can't believe this. They would not send me here to find planted evidence."  
"Why not," she replied. "They've planted evidence against other countries before. Your government wants to use this country as a staging point to invade other larger ones. That's what they did in Iraq."  
"We don't do stuff like that."  
" Oh, yes. The great moralist United States, who've never broken international law whenever it suits them to do so. You can see for yourself that you do."  
"This is a war on terrorism. When we defeated Hussein we ended terrorism in Iraq, and liberated those people."  
"Then forced democracy on them. But that's another story. Hussein and Sahad are cut from the same evil mode. There's no doubt about that. But your government has convicted them of crimes they did not commit. Tomorrow, these same troops are going to return to that factory and say they've found the evidence. I have documentation to prove this to you."  
"Take me back."  
"I'll show it to you."  
"I don't want to see it."  
"Suit yourself. You'll never be able to prove it. Your own people will suppress it and probably brand you a subversive, and probably call you unpatriotic if you're opposed to what they're doing."  
"I have friends in the military, Rachel. They wouldn't do this."  
"Maybe not. But they'd be censored for speaking up, too."  
"Never mind. Take me back." They returned to Diamond's ride, and sped off back into the desert.  
  
The stars were shining bright over Syraq when they reached the small house on the hillside. Cap had no intention of revealing the whereabouts of his own transportation to Diamondback. And, when they arrived back at the outskirts of Tuhkut, he was quick to survey the area for waiting Serpent Society agents. He was feeling sick to his stomach, but not so much that he would let his guard down. On the ride back the thought that Diamondback and the Serpent Society were setting him up had been more than just a passing possibility. He would leave her behind and conduct his own investigation.  
"So, what are you going to do?"  
"I'm leaving," he lied. "I'm going home to confront the President."  
"He won't listen to you. He's no brains and all ego. He probably doesn't even know what's going on. He doesn't even know what goes on in his own country. He can't see past all those silver spoons in his mouth."  
"How dare you speak like that about him."  
"I'm still an American citizen. I have the right to criticize the government. Just because Sahad is evil doesn't give you the right invade this country and force your will on these people."  
"If they threaten us, we do."  
"And has Sahad threatened you? This is a tiny little country with minimal military capabilities. They can't attack you or anyone else. Sahad's regime can barely keep control of the country. So how can he possibly attack your country? And you've seen the weapons of mass destruction."  
"He's still an enemy of freedom. And I have to deal with him."  
"Many say the same thing about your government." Angrily she went into the house, slamming the door behind her. Cap looked after her for a few moments, then turned his attention to the night sky. It was bright. However the moon was only a sliver. Even if it were full he would have to take the risk. He had only tonight to find out if what Diamondback had shown him was real. In the morning, he would never know. As much as Diamondback had lied to him, he knew she was telling the truth about the timetable. He would deal with this situation. But first he would deal with Diamondback. He went to the door. Opening it slowly, he stepped inside. All was quiet. Diamondback was gone. Silently, he cursed himself for letting her get away. He exited the building and would not return.  
  
The sliver that was the moon was past its arc as Captain America moved quietly toward the fence, which surrounded the apparent factory. A normal human being would be unable to scale the fence, but Cap was up and over it in one quick motion. Silently, he landed on the other side. Moving cautiously, he practically glided across the sand until he was at the base of the east wall of the main complex. He scaled it and was on the roof in a few seconds, shield at the ready. He was in uniform, but did not expect to be greeted as a friend. He was not about to just walk up to whoever was in charge and say hello. Crouched, he moved to the edge and peered over, and saw exactly what he had expected to see. On the ground below, soldiers were talking. An officer was giving orders to four grunts.  
"When you've finished unloading this truck, we're outta here until tomorrow."  
"Yes, sir," replied one of the grunts. The officer turned and entered the building, leaving the troops to their task.  
"This is such a waste of time" said one.  
"How are we going to justify being here if we don't find what we're looking for?" a second chuckled.  
"Yeah, but is this right?"  
"That raghead, Sahad, is a bastard. He's butchered his own people. It's our job to get rid of him."  
"Than what?" said a third.  
"Then these people get a democratic government. And they don't attack us."  
"And how do we know they want a democracy?" said the third. "Ours isn't exactly perfect you know."  
"We've been here for three weeks," said the first. "I don't think Sahad could attack us."  
"It doesn't matter. We're here because our president and country want us here."  
"And what about the protestors. Every country in the world has people who are opposed to this," said the fourth.  
"I think they could keep their mouths shut," said the third. "We're here fighting to protect them and they're protesting us."  
"No, they're not," said the first. "They're protesting the war. They don't think we should be here, and they want us home safe."  
"They just don't have the guts to do what needs to be done," said the third. "I'd like to shut them up myself."  
"Never mind," said the second. "Let's just get this finished. I'd like to get some rest so I look good for the cameras tomorrow. We're all gonna be heroes for finding this stuff." Cap watched as the soldiers went back to work with several other troops. As he studied them, his course became clear. He was not going to let this happen. Sahad would be brought to justice for his crimes. But not for ones he did not commit, if Cap could help it. As stealthily as he had come, he was gone.  
  
Nomad dropped, silently, onto the roof of the facility. What light there was shone on his masked face that of a deep scowl. Once again Captain America had become disenchanted with his hero persona. What his country was doing was wrong, and Nomad intended to put a stop it. The facility would not see the light of day.  
Nomad crept to the edge of the roof and peered down. All was quiet. The army had completed its mission to plant illegal weapons in the factory, and there were no guards to protect their investment. Nomad had expected that. If the United States military had been spotted there ahead of time, it might damage their credibility. As Captain America, he had considered collecting visual and audio evidence, but had decided against it, believing that it would be suppressed or be called a hoax to try to hide the truth from the American people. Sure some would believe it, but not enough. The only option was to destroy it before it was "found."  
Nomad scaled the wall and landed in front of the loading dock door. The opening was locked. He used his shield to cut a hole, and then stepped inside. There were no lights on so he used his shield for illumination. As he spotted several barrels, his scowl deepened. The barrels reached to the ceiling and as far back as the far wall. The arrogance of his own government angered him. The building was practically bulging with weapons of mass destruction. And the majority of Americans would believe that Sahad would just leave this stuff laying around for America to find once the president basically told them to. Nomad could hear him, now.  
"My fellow Americans," he would say. "Early this morning what we feared most was confirmed. A chemical and biological weapons facility has been found in Syraq. And from what I am told it contains enough weapons to harm all the civilized and peaceful nations of the world." The president would read his speech from a piece of paper and not even think about what it said. Nomad had never considered him to be very bright. He probably did not even know that he was telling a lie, which made Nomad even angrier. The leader of the free world would not even question the convenience of the find.  
"I would like to personally thank our brave men and women of the armed forces for finding those evil weapons before they could be used to harm our military, or be used to harm the innocent people of Syraq. For there is no doubt that Sahad would have used them if he would have gotten the opportunity." Captain America had seen the results of those types of weapons being used. Sahad had in fact used them on his own people in the past. And that was the sort of evil he would be punished for. But what he knew the president was going to say, and what the result of "discovering" these weapons was going to be would not be on the list of charges. Nomad exited the building. Using the remote control device in his glove, he brought his air vehicle down. Before it touched the ground he was on board. He rose into the air. Then using the force beam of his shield he began firing on the facility. Within seconds several fires were burning out of control. He hoped that most of the toxins would be burned away since there was no time to dispose of them properly before the army arrived. Turning his back on the blaze, he rocketed off into the flame illuminated night.  
  
Steve Rogers sat on his sofa watching the news, taking his eyes from the screen only long enough to finish his sixth glass of vodka. He had never been drunk before, and he found it to be a rather pleasant sensation. It would not and could not last forever. But he only needed it to last long enough to listen to watch the anchor was saying.  
"Early this morning," the mannequin-looking man began, "the military discovered a facility north of Tuhkut, which contained chemical weapons. With the war entering only its second week this is an amazing discovery to find. And now the critics of the president's decision to invade Syraq will have to find a different approach." Rogers had returned home a few days ago, having left Syraq immediately after destroying the factory. He had expected the military to simply move the operation to a different location. However, he had seen the futility of trying to stop them at every turn. He knew that eventually they would succeed in framing Sahad. And what added to Rogers' sick stomach was how the president tried to honor Captain America for preventing the Syraqi army from using the factory as a staging point to attack American forces. Someone in the army had decided that it must have been Cap. Rogers had declined the honor citing that he was only doing his job and did not desire such rewards.  
Rogers shot to his feet, flung the glass against the wall, and staggered to the balcony. As he stepped outside his thoughts were filled with what would be next. He wondered how he could protect the country he loved without being labeled a traitor by those who ran the country. He sat down on the balcony and closed his eyes.  
  
THE END 


End file.
